


I don't know where to go (but you gotta be there)

by fleurdeliser



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for prompt number ten of the <a href="http://yobrothatssick.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://yobrothatssick.livejournal.com/"><b>yobrothatssick</b></a> challenge: Frank and Gerard work in an office building together. One day, Frank doesn't show up for their smoke break. And then again. Where is he? What can Gerard do? What happens NEXT?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I don't know where to go (but you gotta be there)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the mods of [](http://yobrothatssick.livejournal.com/profile)[**yobrothatssick**](http://yobrothatssick.livejournal.com/) for this awesome challgenge! Also to [](http://alpheratz.livejournal.com/profile)[**alpheratz**](http://alpheratz.livejournal.com/) for the great beta job, to [](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/profile)[**tuesdaysgone**](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/) for helping me hammer out the details, and to [](http://brilligspoons.livejournal.com/profile)[**brilligspoons**](http://brilligspoons.livejournal.com/) for the World of Warcraft info.

“So Jessie was like, ‘Karrie, you bitch.’”

Gerard wants to brain himself against against the tree he’s been standing next to, trying to will these people out of his fucking spot with the power of his mind. It’s a big courtyard. There are plenty of other places they could be sitting. He just wants to smoke his cigarette in peace. Or at the very least, if he’s going to be subjected to gossip, he’d like it to be interesting. This shit is just stupid.

He glances at his watch. He’s got ten minutes left of his break. Fuck this shit. He glances around the courtyard. He spots an empty bench about twenty yards away and makes a beeline for it, breathing a sigh of relief when the voices of the gossipers fade.

It turns out that while the bench itself is empty, there’s a small dude smoking on the edge of a raised flowerbed next to it. Gerard wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t stop. It’s not like he’s an invader, unlike the assholes the who invaded _his_ spot. Gerard nods to the guy, who nods back and takes another drag off his cigarette. He’s hot, Gerard thinks. He’s got tattoos on his arms. Gerard tries not to stare at them.

Gerard sits on the bench and lights his cigarette. His eyes slip closed on the first drag and he nearly moans. Fuck. It was a long fucking morning, full of asshole clients and snappish coworkers. He opens his eyes again and looks around the courtyard. There are the regular smokers he sees all the time and then a few extras because it’s a nice day for once.

The dude whose spot he invaded stands and rolls his sleeves down over the ink on his arms and brushes off his pants. Gerard almost feels guilty that he doesn’t take advantage of his office’s relaxed attitude toward body mod because this dude has beautiful work and obviously can’t show it off, not with the long sleeves on a warm day like today. Maybe he’ll dye his hair some crazy color.

“Happy smoking,” the guy says to him and sets off toward an office building on the other side of the courtyard. Gerard waves belatedly at his back and takes another long drag.

Gerard hates it when the weather starts getting nice. More people start using the courtyard again and it cramps his fucking style. He finishes his cigarette and pushes it down in the sand of the nearest ashtray.

He flips off the people who stole his spot as he walks by. Not in a way they can see–he doesn't want to have to actually stir up shit with them–but it's satisfying anyway.

*

The next day when Gerard ventures out for his first smoke break, his spot is vacant, but he spends the entire time feeling like it’s going to be overrun at any moment. His cigarette is almost unsatisfying, except for how he really, desperately needed it. Later, he takes his lunch of cold chow mein outside because the thought of eating in the break room or at his desk is kind of soul-crushing.

His spot is occupied by the same assholes as the day before. He doesn't even bother hanging around to see if they'll leave soon, he just goes directly to the bench from the day before. It’s probably unoccupied because it's in the shade, Gerard thinks. He's just not as devoted to vitamin D as everyone else.

The guy from yesterday is in the same spot and eating a burrito. The dude just looks up and nods, doesn't give him any dirty looks and Gerard isn't getting a "fuck off" vibe from him, so he sits down and starts eating.

"Fucking grim," he accidentally says aloud.

"Tell me about it," the guy answers. Gerard glances over and they share rueful smiles. ""Better than the break room, anyway," the guy says.

"Seriously, why the fuck are all break rooms so goddamn bleak? They're always fuckin' windowless and smelly," Gerard says, waving his fork around.

“Horribly, horribly smelly. Seriously, anyone who brings microwave popcorn to work needs to be shot to begin with. But they burn it every fucking time,” the guy says, nose wrinkled.

“For fucking real, dude.”

They go back to their food. After they finish eating, they both light cigarettes and smoke in silence.

The other guy leaves first again, carefully rolling his sleeves back down over his tattoos and gathers all his trash and throws it in the nearby can. Gerard is kind of fascinated by the whole process. It's like he's preparing himself for battle. Maybe he is. Maybe he has a shitty job or a shitty boss or both.

Gerard gets up a few minutes later and goes back inside. He's got some inking waiting for him and a boss who wants the project done by the end of the day.

*

Gerard doesn’t even bother with his original smoking spot the next day. He goes straight to the new bench and sits down, lighting his cigarette. There are people actually sunbathing on the grassy patch in the middle of the courtyard. He’s pretty sure that’s weird in the courtyard of an office complex. He pulls his phone from his pocket and shoots a text to Mikey confirming their movie night plans and zones out. He's a little startled when his new smoking buddy sits down on the bench next to him.

"Nice shirt," he says with a nod.

Gerard has to look down to remind himself what shirt he put on that morning. It's purple with the letters S.P.E.W. across the chest. Gerard looks up and grins. "My friend Jill made it. It was part of a Halloween costume, actually. I was Harry."

"Well, you've got the hair for it," the guy says with a smile and lights up.

"That's why she asked me. She's like, an activist and shit and wanted to go as something appropriate, but still fun," Gerard explains, taking a drag.

"That's pretty creative. Halloween is my birthday, so I always dress up. Last year I was Dracula. Mostly I wanted the cape. Which isn't really creative, but swooping around everywhere was damn fun." The guy giggles, high and delighted with himself. Gerard has to laugh with him, he can’t really help it.

"That's a badass birthday, though," Gerard says after a beat.

"It really is. I get a fuckin' costume party every year." He pokes his cigarette in the corner of his mouth and leans over, holding out his hand. "Frank, by the way."

"I'm Gerard," he says and they shake. They smoke quietly after that. Gerard finishes his cigarette and stands. "See you."

Frank waves. "Later."

*

Gerard spends his lunch at the comic shop, so when his afternoon break rolls around, he grabs one of his issues and heads outside. He gets lost in the art and the story and is nearly to the end of the issue when he’s interrupted.

"Superman? Really? I figured you were more of a Batman dude."

Gerard looks up to see Frank lighting a cigarette. "This isn't just any Superman, though. It's Grant Morrison's Superman with Frank Quitely doing the art. Best Superman story I've read."

"All I've read of his is Animal Man," Frank says.

"Really? How amazing is that book?" Gerard asks, ashing his cigarette and taking another drag.

"Really fucking amazing," Frank replies. "So what about this Superman makes him less of a fucking goody two-shoes loser?"

"Well, he's like, at the end of his life. So it's... he's got all these things he wants to accomplish before he goes and he has to come to terms with it all. It's really kind of beautiful.”

"Interesting." Frank sounds genuine too, not in the way some people say interesting but are really pacifying you. "Maybe I'll check it out."

"You should. And seriously, the art is fucking gorgeous. I could just stare at the pages looking at the art for hours. Totally worth the three bucks just for the art." Gerard flips the comic over so Frank can see the cover. "But the story is just as amazing. Shit, I can totally bring you my copies and let you borrow them, get caught up. There's only two issues left after this one."

"Really? Man, I'd really appreciate that." Frank beams at him.

"Totally," Gerard beams back. "Ah, shit. I gotta go." He takes the last drag off his cigarette and gets up. "I'll bring the issues tomorrow. You'll see what I mean."

"Have a good afternoon," Frank tells him.

Gerard laughs. "I'll try."

As he walks back to his office, Gerard realizes that this is his first smoking buddy. He's never really hit it off with any of the other people who frequent the courtyard. Frank seems really cool though, and clearly has pretty good taste. And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot.

*

They spend at least one break a day together in the following weeks. They talk about comics and horror movies and music. Gerard doesn't hate his job by any means; most days he really enjoys his work, but he's been having a lot more fun recently. He thinks that's due to Frank. It's nice. Frank is nice. He’s funny and has good taste and Gerard wants to ask for his number. But do you ask for a smoking buddy’s number? That seems like it might be weird.

When Frank doesn't show up one Friday, Gerard just dismisses it as them just missing each other. When Frank’s not there the following Monday, he gets a little worried. On Tuesday, Gerard goes through his morning break, then eats lunch alone, and when Frank doesn't show for the afternoon break, Gerard starts thinking about maybe trying to figure out a way to contact him. Maybe he's sick. Maybe he has the flu or that stomach bug that’s been going around. Maybe he’s _really_ sick. Maybe he got pneumonia and he’s in the hospital with an oxygen tube in his nose. If Gerard could contact him, maybe he could ask for Frank’s address and go to his house.

Gerard isn't sure how he'd get in. Maybe Frank would open the door with a blanket over his head looking pathetic, or maybe Gerard could climb in through a window. Maybe he has roommates that would let Gerard in.

He'd go, at any rate. And he'd take Frank soup and tuck him into bed, and if Frank was really, _really_ sick, he'd take him to the doctor and maybe call off work himself just so he could take care of Frank.

Gerard rolls his eyes at himself and stubs his cigarette out.

*

Wednesday, Frank doesn't show up again. Gerard frowns at Frank’s building and considers going in and asking after him. But who knows how many companies actually have offices in that building. He supposes he could go charm some receptionists somehow, casually ask if they’ve seen Frank. But he'd probably like, go through the wrong door and find the fuckin' Molton Core.

Maybe he'd find Frank fighting a core puppy. Those fuckers are brutal. He could swoop in and help him fight off the core puppies and they'd get out of the door, out of the Molton Core and then the building together, only a little singed. And obviously Frank would kiss him in thanks for the help.

He sighs. He really wishes he knew how to get in touch with Frank, that he’d ever thought to get Frank’s fucking number. Even if he just got fired or something, Gerard would like to know.

*

Thursday rolls around and Gerard smokes three cigarettes during his first break. He can barely eat his lunch. He jiggles his knee and chain smokes. Maybe Frank got kidnapped by pirates. Land pirates.

They'd probably be big dudes with beards. But Gerard would take his sword and go find their lair and fight through them to get to Frank. He would probably die, but he'd try really hard. And maybe he _would_ get to Frank. And then they could fight back out together. Gerard thinks maybe he could make it back out if he had Frank's help. He has a feeling they'd make a good team.

He casts one last worried look toward Frank's office building and goes back inside. If Frank doesn't show up tomorrow, Gerard will start asking around.

*

On Friday, Gerard almost dreads his first cigarette break of the day On the one hand, if Frank is actually there, it’ll be fucking great, but if he’s not... well, Gerard will just get more worried, he supposes. And go find Frank’s office. He sits down at their bench and stares in the direction of Frank’s building like every day for the last four days. He nearly gets up and does a dance when he sees Frank coming toward him, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie.

He doesn’t dance, but he does get up and walk toward Frank. They meet about halfway across the courtyard. Frank’s got a jacket over the hoodie, even though it’s nearly eighty degrees out. He looks miserable. Gerard _really_ can’t help himself when he leans forward and hugs Frank. Frank chuckles and wraps his arms around Gerard in return.

Gerard pulls back. He knows he’s blushing. “I was, um. I was worried.”

“Sorry, man. I got the flu of doom.” Frank’s voice is scratchy. “I still feel pretty gross, but like. I could not fucking stay in my apartment for another day or I’d have gone completely stir-crazy. I thought about trying to let you know, but then I realized I had no idea where you actually work and that I didn’t have your number, so we should fix that.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Gerard says fervently and pulls his phone out of his pocket and punches in Frank’s number, triple-checking to make sure it’s correct.

“So what’d I miss?” Frank asks with a smile.

“A fucking step aerobics class started up on Monday. It’s so goddamn obnoxious. The instructor shouts over a boom box playing the most obnoxious 80s dance hits. Or, non-hits. I’ve never heard any of these songs. Other than that, I’ve just been... it was a weird week.” Gerard tugs at his hair. “So like, maybe this is weird, but if you’re feeling well enough, d’you wanna go get dinner or go see a movie or something tonight?”

“Oh man, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to, but I probably shouldn’t have even come today. I’m currently existing by the grace of Theraflu and an iron will,” Frank says. He’s frowning and Gerard can tell he’s actually bummed. “Maybe we could do a night in? You could come over, we could get Chinese and watch a DVD?”

“That sounds great,” Gerard beams. He’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to stop smiling all day.

When Frank smiles back, Gerard doesn’t even think about it, just leans forward and kisses the corner of Frank’s mouth. “Um,” he says when he pulls back.

Frank smiles wider.

*

 _Six months later..._

“Fuck,” Frank groans. Gerard blinks awake. “I do not fucking want to be sick again.”

Gerard rolls over sliding an arm over Frank’s waist, pressing his lips to Frank’s shoulder. “Sorry, babe,” he murmurs into Frank’s skin. “You gonna call out?”

“Yeah, if I force myself to work today, it’ll just be worse for longer.” Frank sighs and reaches for his phone on his bedside table.

“Gonna miss you during breaks,” Gerard tells him, nuzzling his neck.

“Mmm, at least you won’t have to imagine various ways to rescue me this time,” Frank squirms around, burying his face in Gerard’s chest. When he starts talking again, his voice is muffled. “You’ll just know to bring me miso soup and another box of lotion tissues. And maybe some more Theraflu because I’m pretty sure I forgot to restock.”

“I did that when I was totally freaked out and had no idea where you were,” Gerard huffs. “It was a coping mechanism. I have much better things to fantasize about now.”


End file.
